


Before The Woman

by Siddal



Series: Secret Agent Man [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Boarding School, F/M, M/M, Teen Sherlock, Teen Years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-19
Updated: 2016-01-19
Packaged: 2018-05-14 23:37:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5763295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siddal/pseuds/Siddal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before she was THE Woman, she was the girl. Before he was THE Sherlock Holmes, he was a teenager with a very nice coat and and little social skills.</p><p>A.K.A. The origin of the red button hole.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Before The Woman

Sneaking out of his dormitories at night to buy cigarettes and go exploring the town, may be one of the most conventional things Sherlock has ever done. Though most would expect this kind of behavior from a teenage schoolboy not an eleven year old like he was when he started. And from the start, he always went alone. The makings of a mother’s nightmare.

But who exactly would he go with if the circumstances had been normal? He had no friends. If he were to go with any random group of boys his age they’d only go looking for childish things like easy to steal sweets and pretty girls. As those in his class grew older, their interests only shifted to easy to steal liquor and gullible girls. While his tastes shifted to more illegal substances and watching a more varied spectrum of people.

He came to town to observe and to learn. Town was his classroom and here he learned useful things, not mathematics that he’s understood since he was six and not sciences as unnecessary as astronomy. He learned people, observing them like animals in a nature show. Tonight wouldn’t have been much different. He was walking around with a lit cigarette in his hand, in one of his less pristine blazers with the school patch ripped off, over a dark blue hoodie. His senses alert, listening to gossip and watching mannerisms as he moved about the shops to replenish his stash of cigarettes and junk food. But then a new variable came into play.

She stood on the sidewalk across the street from him, looking about. Much like him, she wore a blazer with the patch ripped off quite recently; unnoticeable loose thread to common eyes but not his eyes. She wore the blazer over a shirt and jeans, concealing her posh school origins. But he can’t identify from what school she came from. Her blazer didn’t match any in his archive of nearby schools.

He hadn’t realized that he was staring at her until her cool blue eyes looked directly at him, accompanied by an arched eyebrow. He turned away abruptly from her but then looked again. He’d been caught already. She tipped her head to the side to summon him, her long dark hair falling elegantly from where it rest on her shoulders. He followed her to a nearby alley and the moment they got deep enough into the alley that no one would take notice of them, Sherlock was surprised to find his cigarette swiped from his fingers.

“Give me a pack.” The girl said as she put his cigarette in her mouth.      

“Why would I give you a pack?” Sherlock says in a whiney tone, quite outraged by the girl’s audacity.

“Because you bought plenty and it’s the least you can do for frowning at me all night from across the street.” She smirks at him.

Sherlock pauses, wondering how the girl found out how much cigarettes he had, despite concealing them quite well in his blazer’s secret pockets. He then realizes she was waiting for a response and had a hand out expecting a pack of cigarettes.

“I just noticed you a few moments ago. That’s hardly all night. And I wasn’t frowning.” He says.

“Then what do you call this?” she imitates his frown.

“I was confff…curious.” Sherlock stumbles on his words, not wanting to admit to confusion but revealing a more detrimental curiosity for her, resulting in her looking quite pleased with herself.

“Ow how adorable, you’re a ‘special’.” She teases.

“I’m not a ‘special!’ I was just looking because I was wondering what school you came from. Your uniform isn’t familiar.” He tries defends himself, kicking himself inside for not being very effective at it.

“Ow sure, I’ll tell you where I study, along with my home address, my bank account and my parents’ names.” She says sarcastically.

“I’m not a creeper!” Sherlock practically shouts and they both nervously look back at the street to see if anyone had noticed them.

“You seem to think you can distinguish the uniforms of all nearby schools.” The girl counters him.

“I just have this place memorized. But I haven’t seen you before, and you don’t seem like a tourist.” Sherlock insists.

“Is that your version of ‘do you come here often’?” The girl says flirtatiously.

“Forget it. I should be heading back.” Sherlock dismisses her out of frustration and starts walking away when she calls him back.

“What about my pack?”

“You can have that one stick.” He turns back for a moment and point at the cigarette in her hand.

“Partial stick.” She says in mock indignation before putting the cigarette back between her lips.

Sherlock sighs and then walks back towards her. Surprised and slightly impressed by the unconscious display of swagger in his determined walk, she smiles at Sherlock appraisingly with her hands on her hips.

“On second thought…” Sherlock takes the cigarette from her lips and puts it between his. Tasting the shared cigarette he then says “You wearing chapstick?” She smirked at the clearly intentional flirtatious tone and smoldering look this once awkward boy is now sporting.

Sherlock then walks away and disappears into the crowd outside the alley.

 

* * *

 

Sherlock doesn’t see the strange girl for a few days despite his frequent sneaking-out. But in all that time she seemed to manage to sneak into his thoughts. He had to admit she was objectively pretty. She seemed quite clever and confident. But she was also quite infuriating. And though he loathed to admit it, on his little trips to town, he would sometimes catch himself looking for her.

The next time he sees the girl, it’s Friday night and most of the older kids from the nearby schools crowded the little eateries and shops. He was leaning on the outside wall of a diner with a lit cigarette, observing his contemporaries and their tedious gossiping, hazing and courting rituals, when he heard her voice.

“Back again are you?”

He turns and sees her making her way out of the diner with a smile.

“Well I’m pretty sure this is my…What’s the word? Turf.” He smiles back at her unconsciously.

“Well if you’re willing to share...” she says, as flirtatious as she was last time.

He smirks at her, seeming to have no objection in showing his curiosity this time around. “What are you after?”

“I’m not a tourist but I am new. Thought maybe, since you’re the expert, you could give me a tour. Show me a good time.” They’re both leaning against the wall by their shoulders now, facing each other.

Sherlock finally realizes that he was flirting back and tries to give a straighter reply.

“I’m not your entertainer.”

“I asked for a tour. I could do the entertaining.” Her fingers hover near his, nearly touching.

But suddenly someone interrupts.

“I can show you a good time, love. Evening, Holmes.” Says the boy who briefly glares at Sherlock before returning his gaze on the girl.

 “Wilkes.” Sherlock grumbles out the name.

“Me and my mates are headed to the lake. Your friends in there are coming too. Come with us. I assure you it’s far less… dreary.” Wilkes flirts clumsily with the girl, sparing Sherlock a look as he says the word ‘dreary’.

“Sounds like fun.” Says the girl but she is looking Sherlock in the eyes the whole time as if to challenge him.

As if not noticing the staring contest between the two, Wilkes makes an excited noise and joins his friends back inside the diner.

Sherlock is the one that breaks the silence and says “Well it seems you don’t need me anymore.”

Sherlock turns to walk away when the girls says “Yeah. What do you know, I found myself a gentleman escort. A man after my own heart.”

Sherlock turns to look back at her.

“He’s after what’s under your skirt and he’s hardly a gentleman.” He says with an uncharacteristically high temper.

“First of all, I’m wearing trouser. Second. If you think he’s so dubious, would you really let me go with him on my own.” She says in mock outrage.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine with your girlfriends.”

“They’re not really my girlfriends. I’m new, remember. You’re the closest thing I have to a friend really.”

“You’ve met me only once before.”

“It’s easier to make friends with boys. It’s easy to know what to look out for, what they’re after. Girls at this age can be devious little things.”

Sherlock yields with a sigh and the girl smiles and claps excitedly.

The door of diner opens and a group of 15-17 year olds emerge from inside.

“Hey, you all wouldn’t mind if I bring my friend right?” She asks in a clearly manufactured peppy tone.

The girls nod while the boys from Sherlock’s school grumble the affirmative. They all walk to the lake, the girls’ giggling the entire way as the boys give them lecherous little grins. Sherlock and THE girl however are looking at each other as they trail behind the group.

Upon seeing the shore, the girls’ giggles get louder with glee. There is a crowd of youngsters hanging out around a fire. The girls find the whole thing exciting and romantic while the boys were all feeling opportunistic. Suddenly, Wilkes’ arm is draped over the girl’s shoulders, much to the surprise of the girl as well as Sherlock.

As the reveling progressed, there was singing and mingling. The strange girl seemed all too comfortable in the situation despite Sherlock’s earlier assessment of her being strange. Sherlock on the other hand was a fly on the figurative wall, and took the opportunity to walk among the crowd. It didn’t hurt to further his research, especially being in an unfamiliar situation.

Sherlock performed his unofficial role of watching out for the girl despite how ludicrous a request it was to ask of him and the whole arrangement obviously being a joke. He didn’t take the task seriously but he couldn’t find it in himself to not keep looking back at her anyway. This baseless curiosity he’s developed for this girl had him confused and therefore irritated. Sherlock’s mood wasn’t really helped by Wilkes’ continued flirting with the girl. But aside from the girl however, Sherlock’s eyes also wondered to an old cottage atop a small hill, a small distance away from the crowd. And his mood was slightly lifted by an idea.

Sherlock sneakily approached the group he came with. He remained unnoticed by most of them except for the girl. He tilted his head to the side, calling her toward him. She looked back at their group and none of them seemed to take notice. Even Wilkes was turned away from her for the moment. She looks back at Sherlock as he raises a finger to his lips, asking her to not say a word. He then curled the finger to urge her to follow him and she did. They weaved through the crowd, leaving the oblivious group behind.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked as they walked on the damp sand.

Sherlock took her hand and said. “I told you. I’ve memorized this place and you did ask for a tour.”

“Away from their primitive functions then?” They smile excitedly at each other.

When a structure became clearer than the vague silhouette that can be seen from the crowd, Sherlock said “It’s an old abandoned cottage. How’s that for a landmark?”

“This is the part where you harvest my organs and chop the rest of me up isn’t it?” The girl jokes.

Sherlock laughs and says “I’m not chopping you up.”

“Good. I don’t even know your name yet… Well apart from Holmes.”

Sherlock turns to her a dares her. “Have a guess.”

She huffs. “Ow, come on! My name’s Katarina. What’s yours?”

Sherlock smiles at finally getting a name to match with the face but he still insists. “Guess!”

She rolls her eyes but surrenders to his games. “Do I get a clue at least?

“It starts with an S.”

The girl reluctantly gives him a series of names in rapid succession. “Sean. Simon. Sam. Steven…”

“Followed by an H.” Sherlock supplies.

“What?” The girl is outraged at the somehow unacceptable combination of letters. “Shaw. Shane. Shut. Shit. Shoe. Shar…”

“On second thought, considering my name, it’s highly unlikely you’ll be able to guess.” Says Sherlock with a chuckle.

“What Shar isn’t your name?” Katrina teases.

“No. Shar isn’t my name. If that’s even a name”

“I’m still calling you Shar.” She declares as they climb into the cottage.

“My name’s Sherlock.” Sherlock insists.

“I prefer Shar.” She insists back then speaks again after a pause. “Sherlock? I was never going to get that!” she says in outrage.

Sherlock chuckles then says “Well, if you get to rename me, I’m renaming you too?”

“Have at it.” She puts her hands on her hips in a challenging pose.

“Kate. Kat. Erin. Irene.”

Katrina lets out an artificial laugh and says “So uninventive. My mum called me Irene.”

“Katta.”

They stare at each other for a moment in the dim moonlight.

“I like that one.” Katrina smiles and looks down at her feet for a moment in a show of coyness that Sherlock never would have expected from the feisty girl he met a few days ago, but he realized he wasn’t all that opposed to it. So he smiles back.

“You might like this better.” Sherlock guides her to a large window overlooking the beach and the crowd.

“See. They’re far less obnoxious from afar. No point in going near them.” Sherlock teases.

She doesn’t respond. She only smiles at the view.

After sometime of strangely comfortable silence, ‘Katta’ speaks.

“Sorry about the other day.”

Sherlock looks back at her and finds a melancholic look about her.

“For what?”

“Everything? Coming on too strong, maybe…”

“Calling me ‘special’? Yes, I suppose the terminology is a bit out-of-date. Not very politically correct.” Sherlock teases her. If he were to be honest, he might say he liked the feisty girl from before just as much as the shy one now. He supposed he just liked  _her._

“You’re not ‘special’.” Says Katta, trying to reassure Sherlock that she didn’t really think that he was developmentally challenged.

“That hurts!” Sherlock says in mock outrage, pretending to have received it as an insult to his uniqueness.

He smirks as she shoves him lightly. They both laugh uncontrollably, knowing full well that none of what they said was all that funny. What was fun was laughing with each other.

Once they’ve recovered from their laughing fit, Sherlock says “I was never diagnosed anyway. But I am a bit difficult to deal with. Well, more than a bit.”

“I think you’re quite nice to be with, actually.” Katta says with a smile and a touch on the arm.

“You haven’t been around me for very long.”

“Do those boys give you a hard time for being different?” Katta asks.

“I'm the one that gives them a hard time. I say some things that anger them, usually things they can’t understand and being of inferior intellect, their bound to retaliate in a more physical way.” Sherlock explain.

“Such cavemen you have to deal with! So you give them a verbal lashing do you?” Katta asks with a teasing tone.

“Oh no. I’m…I have this skill. I can usually see a person’s character, their recent activities, and their secrets just by looking at them.” Sherlock elaborates.

“That’s a useful superpower.”

Sherlock gives her a brief look of irritation and replies “Their called deductions. It requires a fair bit of concentration and analysis. They are useful but even when my deductions don’t serve any particular purpose I tend to blurt them out.”

“They deserve it.”

And from irritation he is suddenly pleased with her again. But then he is confused.

“Do they? You’re the one who wanted to join them tonight.”

“And you followed.”

This statement succeeds in making Sherlock blush for a moment.

“I suppose on some level I have your superpower too. Though I can’t claim to see thru a person with one look, I do like finding out what makes people tick, what they like. I figured I might learn something from these ‘primitive creatures’.”

And after a rollercoaster of a conversation, Sherlock decides that this Katta could prove to be exceptional company for quite a while longer.

 

* * *

 

On the days that followed, Sherlock is proven right. Katta is good company. She does irritate him sometimes when she insists that social interaction with ordinary people can be educational, or when she swipes his cigarettes. But he has to admit, the name ‘Shar’ is growing on him. He found, he particularly liked it when she says “Oh Shar, you are brilliant!” or “How do you do/know that, Shar?” Genius loves an audience after all. And what better audience than one with a brilliant mind as well, someone who can truly appreciate his skills?

They go around town, observing people together; sit in diners and talk about his ambition of becoming a detective. He supposes, people might misinterpret their almost nightly meetings, especially because Katta is all too comfortable touching his arm, his shoulder, his knee…Friendly pats, to be sure but highly suggestive through other people’s perspective. The natural cadence of her voice also tends to have a flirtatious tone. But Sherlock insists, this is all very platonic.

He teaches her how to do some deductions and she teaches him how to act ‘ordinary’. He’s proud to say that he’s quite a good tutor though maybe he isn’t the best student.

“You’re going to have to learn to act. Learn to sympathize, imitate, project. How else would you infiltrate a villain’s secret lair than as a simple old henchman?” she says.

“A villain’s secret lair? Are those technical terms, professor?” Sherlock teases and she replies with a show of the tip of her tongue.

“What are you working towards then? You planning to be an actor?” He asks.

“It involves acting. It’s a bit more service oriented.” She replies evasively.

“Service? No offence, but you don’t seem the type.” Sherlock chuckles.

“I can serve. I can ACT courteous and helpful… from a place of power, of course.”

Sherlock continues to chuckle but inside, his mind is busy trying to deduce for this mystery career that he’s been wondering about since the night at the cottage.

 

They’re at their usual diner and we’re just about to take their seats in one of the booths when...

“Well hello, you two! Are you having your usual?” greeted a young blonde waitress.

Katta smiled at her and said “Yes, please Minnie.”

“Coming right up.” The waitress said excitedly.

“Minnie?” asked Sherlock appraisingly.

“Her name’s Minerva.” Katta supplies.

“And this is relevant how?” he teases her.

Katta takes a breath before she begins to elaborate.

“Minnie is in her late twenties. She has dreams of becoming a famous singer. She badgers the manager, old Lloyd over there, to let her set up a dinner show on Fridays, but she still hasn’t convinced him. She feels she’s wasted her youth, waitressing. She wants attention. She wants to feel young. That’s why she likes talking with the students, it makes her feel ‘hip’.”

“Brava! Five stars, young lady.” Sherlock applauds her improving deduction skills but then she continues.

“So, I call her Minnie, a somewhat affectionate nickname, like we’re friends. And that’s why when we order coffee, she brews a new pot. When we ask for tea, she uses the good sort. And when I ask for pudding, there’s always enough for both of us despite it being… well, pudding and we’re usually here in the late evening. Acting nice can be useful, Shar. You should try it.”

Sherlock sighs. Not entirely pleased but not entirely exasperated either. Definitely impressed.

“Here you are!” Minnie returns with two dishes on her tray. Fish and chips for Shar; sausages, mash and peas for Katta.

“Now, could I interest you lovebirds in something sweet? We still have two slices of the red velvet.”

“We’re not…” Sherlock rushes to correct the waitress but Katta cuts him off.

“Sounds lovely, Min. Can we split one, Shar? I’m not feeling up to finishing a whole slice tonight, I just want a taste.” She smiles at Sherlock with that teasing smile and he sighs his surrender. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“I’ll bring it to you later once you finished with this lot. I say, you two make such a lovely couple.”

Minnie walks away from their booth, leaving Katta looking quite pleased with herself.

“Well, since we’re a ‘couple’ now, maybe we should get to know each other better.” Says Katta with a smirk.

“How exactly?” asks Sherlock though seeming uninterested with his attention on his food.

“I don’t know. Sports? No, not you. Art? Well, we’ve delved into that with the music and the dancing and the sketching… Oh, I know! Family.”

Sherlock frowns at her choice of subject. “You’re going to settle on that?”

“Yeah. Sore subject?” she smirks.      

“Boring subject.” Says Sherlock, though in a tone more tellingly antagonistic than he would have preferred.

“Can’t imagine that. Posh school, rebel, genius? That’s bound to have a killer origin story…No, actually that makes you sound like a spoiled rich kid from an Eighties teen movie about maturity and redemption. And we both know you’re not trying to be redeemed or mature from anything. You’re perfect as you are.” She teases him.

Sherlock takes a deep breath of exasperation and then spits out facts in rapid succession. “My mum was a mathematician. My father was an officer in the army. My older brother is a twat. My sister is supposedly a saint. And our baby brother is a recluse.”

“For someone who values detail, that was pretty vague so I assume you want me to drop this.”

Katta was still in a teasing mood but it was Sherlock’s turn to smirk when he decided to turn the focus on her.

“What about you? Family?”

Katta is suddenly guarded though maybe just more obviously guarded. She pauses to compose herself and puts on a sweet smile.

“Just me and mother.” She says dismissively.

“What does she do?”

“She’s… in the service industry.” She sends an even sweeter smile along with an obviously evasive answer.

“So, you’re following in her footsteps are you? I didn’t know those sorts jobs paid well enough to afford posh schools.” Sherlock pries further, pretending to be oblivious to Katta’s wariness.

“I’m very thankful.”

Katta choses to express a kind of sentiment over elaborating on her mother’s profession. But it is obvious to both of them that Sherlock is aware of her aversion to speaking of her mother.

“Want to drop this subject now?” Sherlock says with a smirk.

“Definitely.” She replies with unbridled relief.

 

* * *

 

One night, they find themselves at a bookshop just browsing. It’s a quiet night and they find, they don’t always need the showing off to enjoy each other’s company. Sherlock is surprisingly content as he turns his attention to her, then to the books, then back again. But then their quiet evening gets interrupted.

“Hey Kate!” Sherlock hears from behind a bookshelf.

“Hey…” Katta responds, obviously having forgotten the name of the boy on her side of the bookshelf.

Sherlock peaks through the gap above the books, trying to identify this intruder.

“Sebastian.” The boy supplies, and Sherlock grumbles ‘Wilkes’ inside his head.

“Right!” Katta responds with artificial enthusiasm.

Sherlock sees her smile through the gap and sees it for what it is. He catches himself smiling out of relief because of this but then frowns just to counter unwanted curve of his lips.

“So, I thought we lost you the other night. Your friends got a bit worried.” Says Wilkes.

“And yet they went back to the dormitories without me.” Says Katta, still in her high peppy voice, not letting on to any disbelief of Wilkes statement.

Katta turns her back to Wilkes and walk away from him, pretending to continue her book browsing.

“The coppers crashed the party. We all had to flee.” Wilkes explains as he trails behind her. “Where did you go? I thought you wanted a good time.”

“Someone made me a better offer.” Says Katta, making the eavesdropping Sherlock smile yet again.

But Wilkes is persistent. “Could you, perhaps, consider giving me a chance to surpass this mystery rival?”

“Who wouldn’t?” Katta says with a sweet smile, just to shut him up.

Katta walks away and turns a corner, leaving a hopeful Sebastian Wilkes behind. When she reaches Sherlock on the other side of the bookshelf, he is obviously in a foul mood.

Once Wilkes was out of earshot, an exasperated Sherlock say “Do you ever tire of being so charitable?”

“Charitable?” Katta is confused.

“…to people’s egos. This flirtatiousness.” Sherlock raises his voice slightly.

Katta understands now but, as is in her nature, she continues to tease.

“I didn’t realize I was being flirtatious.” Sherlock scoffs but Katta tries to reassure him. “Don’t worry Shar, he may think of you as a rival but there really isn’t a competition.”

But this only proves to annoy Sherlock further.

“Can you stop doing that?” he practically jumps away from her.

“What?”

“Being suggestive… and sarcastic all the time.” Sherlock says as he waves his hands about with frustration before he turns and walks away from her and out the bookshop.

But Katta follows, then rests a hand on his shoulder. “I like speaking like this. It’s like having a secret language.”

Sherlock scoffs again. “Ordinary people can be quite dull, Wilkes especially when his brain moves to his cock, but most can easily detect sarcasm.”

“Not my brand of sarcasm.  It’s something to do with the tone of my voice I think.” Katta seems quite sure of this.

Sherlock rolls his eyes and says “I can detect it just fine.”

“Exactly, like a secret language” She puts both hands on his shoulders and runs them down his arms in an attempt to comfort. “…between us.”

They stare at each other for a moment, now both smiling, tiny smiles of contentment. Sherlock then looks to their now joined hand and abruptly pulls away.

“Just to set the record straight, I wasn’t competing with him that night.”

“Of course not.” Katta smiles, takes one of his hands and pulls him back into the shop.

 

* * *

 

Everything was going so well, even after the little bout of jealousy on Sherlock’s part. It was just a minor hiccup in the progress of their friendship. Sherlock was still a little apprehensive though. His connection with the girl was confusing. That was not to say that it wasn’t a satisfactory rapport. And Sherlock was very interested in exploring their connection as long as it remained educational and diverting, and not disruptive to his development.

But of course, Sherlock wasn’t the only one whose satisfaction factored into this relationship. Katta had her own views on the situation. Generally, those we’re positive too but then she didn’t know him that well yet; but she was certainly about to get to know him better.

Katta was supposed to meet him at the diner again that night but she stumbled upon him in an alley instead and he wasn’t alone. Sherlock was talking to a man who was probably in his early twenties. He was shorter than Sherlock but a lot stockier. He was dressed in ill-fitting clothes and had a sway in his movement which wasn’t really helped by the sudden punch to the face that Sherlock sent him.

“I’m outta here mate! Find yourself a new dealer. Bloody psychopath!” shouted the man as he ran away. He was obviously not up for a fight in his dazed state despite his stockiness.

“High-functioning sociopath!” Sherlock called after him before greeting the approaching Katta with a “Hey.” And a smile.

“What the hell was that?” asked an outraged Katta.

“I was bored.” Sherlock shrugged.

“And what’s that.” She asked, pointing at the small plastic baggie in his left hand.

“Want some.” He lifted it up to eyelevel for to see.

“Coke? Really, Shar?” she crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“Oh, don’t look so disappointed. I’m not some common junkie doing this for fun. This is for my sanity!”

Katta was just about to accept this drug habit as just another one of Shar’s quirks, maybe something she could even help him overcome, but she just had to know something else.

“Then why did you break your dealer’s nose?” she asked.

“He deserved it, though he won’t remember that I gave him the broken nose. Idiot’s been using the merchandise. While on the job too! Tried to get more money out of me, started to get all touchy…and I haven’t been in a fight in weeks.” Sherlock explained flippantly.

It seemed like a good enough excuse until that last bit and the arrogant tone of the whole of it. Katta knew that Sherlock was strange but she always thought he was cool and collected, not thoughtless and hotheaded. This other side to him just grated her.

“You know, Shar, despite how ‘different’ you are, sometimes, you can be such a bloke.” Said Katta, before walking away angrily.

 

* * *

 

They didn’t see each other for days after the incident. Well, it was three days, which wasn’t so uncommon. They were still students after all, and there are some responsibilities a student, even students as brilliant as they were, just can’t escape. What made it long was the silence. They always found ways to get messages to each other but none came those last few days. Until Sherlock finally conceded to send the first word.

“So, Minnie told me that my ‘boyfriend’ came by. He told her to tell me to meet him at the cottage.” Said Katta from the dusty entrance of the abandoned cottage.

“I never said I was your boyfriend.” Said Sherlock as he appeared from behind a beam.

“But you did called her Minnie.”

“I did.”  Sherlock turned and walked away, leading her deeper into the cottage and also not wanting to see that knowing look on her face.

“You are learning, young padawan.” Said Katta but only received a confused frown from Sherlock. “Nevermind. Nice coat.”

“Thanks. I thought you might like…I mean, It’s starting to get colder these day.” Said Sherlock.

Katta smirks, knowing exactly what Shar was originally about to say. But her smirk falls to make way for shock when they entered a room littered with lit candles.

“What’s all this about?” She asks as Shar takes her hand.

He guides her to sit on a rug at the center of the room. On it sat plates of sweets and an open bottle of champagne.

“This is me apologizing.” Says Shar who became shy all of the sudden as he pulls a bouquet of red roses out of nowhere.

Katta found his expression out of character but adorable all the same.

“For what?”

Sherlock musters up some courage and says “Last time, I acted like…”

But then Katta is reminded of their last encounter.

“A brute? An ass? An utter wanker? Not that I'd mind, but in public? You know better.” She lightly scolds him but accept the flowers all the same. “This is…nice.”

Sherlock, having caught her voice getting higher at the end of her statement, is now looking around for an error that might have caused it.

“Nice? Did I do it wrong? I thought this was how people apologized. I looked in that lady magazine and everything.”

They both looked about as if to survey their surroundings.

“It’s a good apology but this is usually how people propose.”

It is awkward for a moment, staring at each other, surrounded by candlelight, in what is now dawning on Sherlock to be a romantic setting. He didn’t think of it as such before. He only thought candles would be needed in a cottage without electricity. Apologizing might take long so he brought food in case they got hungry. How is the cottage now romantic when Katta joked about it being a possible crime scene when they first came here?

But Sherlock could not deny how these common things; the moon, the candles, the food, the flowers and the old rug, looked picturesque when put together. The dim light did wonders for the girl’s appearance. But then something interfered with the composition. It was a brightly colored bag in Katta’s hand. She’d been shopping. Snacks, cigarettes and…

“What’s all this?”

“Lady things, Shar. You’re so sheltered.” She teases.

“I know what they are. But surely you don’t bleed that much.” Sherlock abandons delicacy  and is suddenly upset, with a deduction slowly forming in his head.

Katta’s expression turns somber. “Ah. Right…I’m preparing for a long trip.”

“How long? You said you were here to stay. I thought you meant at least the semester.”

“So did I.”

“Is it my fault?” Sherlock asks apologetically.

“No. It’s just…I go where mother goes.”

Then the deduction finally takes form. All variables accounted for. The acting. The evasiveness. The expert flirtatiousness. The ‘service industry’. She couldn’t resist the clever pun even knowing that the joke might take a while to land. Maybe it even amused her, how long it took for her Shar to figure it out.

Or was she disappointed? Sherlock wondered.

“This ‘mother’ isn’t your real mother is she?”

She looks away from his questioning gaze.

“You don’t have to do this you know. Your intellect is above average, quite capable of taking care of yourself and strangely attractive despite your sharp features. There are other lives you can live.” Sherlock says with something like growl.

“People probably expect you to be a doctor, a philosopher or even a politician, as unimaginable as that sounds to you. I’m sure your path is not what was expected of you. You’re not so unique on that front. There are other lives yes, but my circumstances led my to this...opportunity. And not all of those other lives are as…exciting.”

“Not as exciting as selling your body?” he practically shouts.

“I won’t be selling my body Shar. ‘Mother’ is not training me to be a common whore. The job involves doing things to clients not them doing things to me. Any direct contact on my body will be of my choosing.” It sounds like something she’d practiced just for this confrontation.

“Bollocks!”

“I have no delusions that the people that hire me will never get to touch me but I will be in control. I will have the upper hand.” She insists but her expression then turns soft. “Though, hopefully, there’ll be special occasions with special people.”

“Hopefully?”

“I haven’t worked everything out just yet. I’ve a long way to go before I get into the ‘family business.’ I'm fifteen for pete's sake. I’ve never even been with a man.” She says shyly.

“Strangely enough, I have.” Sherlock says offhandedly much to Katta’s shock.

“Ow how foolish of me!” She turns away out of embarrassment.

Sherlock reaches for her arm and says “Not to say I’m not attracted to women. Well, generally I’m not but neither am I attracted to men in that way.” Then suddenly, one Sherlock’s rare moments of sentiment. “There are just, as you say, special people.”

“Are you…?”

“Bisexual? I haven’t really figured that out yet. Nor do I think I will figure it out in the near future.”

Katta turns to face him and places her hand on his chest. “No room for heart in the life of a detective?”

They stare into each other’s eyes for a moment, both knowing exactly where this could lead.

Sherlock shakes his hair slightly and says “He was a distraction. Much like you. Helpful at times but oh so distracting.” Ending with a chuckle.

Katta’s come to realize that Sherlock was not completely lacking in social skills, certainly not in flirting, he just didn’t bother with people. She was happy to know that he’d make an effort with her.

“I’m flattered. What’s his name?”

He clears his throat. “Victor.”

She moves closer to him.

“He must be special.”

She stands on her tiptoes.

“He was.”

And she kisses him on the base of his neck.

“What are you doing?” Sherlock asks with gasp.

“There’s no room for heart in the near future, for either of us. Better make the most of now.”

“That’s a weak excuse.”

She reaches up to hold his face in her hands and make him look at her.

“Then how about the truth. I want you to be the first.”

“I’ve never… not with a woman. I’ll only disappoint you.”

Sherlock is suddenly nervous but she reassures her with her own nervousness.

“I doubt that. It’s fine as long as you don’t get too disappointed in me.”

Sherlock take a breath to muster up his courage.

“Might as well, for science.” He smile.

“For science.” She smiles back.

 

* * *

 

Sherlock woke up in the early, dim, morning light. The candles have since been blown out by the wind, and the flowers claimed by his now missing lover. He’d assumed she’d gone for her long trip. He didn’t expect to see her again and refused to be saddened by her departure. It was futile and will only go unnoticed in her absence.

He gathers his things and begins to dress. He reaches for his coat and finds a single red rose threaded through the top button hole. He smiles.

*  
*  
*  
*  
*

KARACHI

“Funny, how you’ve decided to commemorate our time together.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Your coat.”

“What about it?”

“Red is very eye-catching, darling.”

“It’s an old coat. It had to be repaired at some point.”

“And you just couldn’t find a more appropriate color of thread.”

“I thought we were never going to mention that time.”

“What? Our past?”

“Yes, _our past_.”

“Strange how we’ve fallen into a stereotype despite consciously avoiding the ordinary.”

“What do you mean?”

“Childhood sweethearts.”

“We were hardly sweethearts or children.”

“I suppose, we were highly combative towards each other then, though quite interested none the less. Or are you still not admitting that?”

“I’d say we are still highly unconventional. We were more like each other’s tutors that sweethearts during that first time round. We weren’t even alone during that second.”

“Hmmm…How is dear Victor?”

“Probably disposing of our getaway car. And for the record, I think red was a very appropriate color of thread.”

"Seriously, when we're alone, you turn into such a flirt."

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are fuel.
> 
> Watch out for that Victor Trevor fic.


End file.
